


Flowers

by Bonus_Score (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Bonus_Score
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first flower that Petra had ever received had been a violet. It hadn’t been that special of a flower either; the hills she lived on were always covered in them like weeds, and she never really thought of them as something equal to a rose or lily. Her face blanched.</p><p>“Roses are prettier.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers

The first flower that Petra had ever received had been a violet. It hadn’t been that special of a flower either; the hills she lived on were always covered in them like weeds, and she never really thought of them as something equal to a rose or lily. Her face blanched.

“Roses are prettier.” She remarked, looking up at the other girl’s face. Hanji laughed nervously, and the hand that had thrust out the flower so boldly now began to shy back into her coat. 

“Well, I had read in a book of my mom’s that violets are for girls that like other girls, so I thought I’d give you one.”

“You like me?” Petra’s bland expression remained, but this was a first. Never had a boy, or girl, ever came up to her and said so blatantly they liked her. Or liked her at all, in that case. 

“Yeah!” Hanji grinned. Purple suddenly filled her vision again as the pesky flowers were forced back into her face. With a sigh, she grabbed them out of Hanji’s stained hand and stared at the petals that were already trying to fall off from being handled so roughly. 

“So… do you like me too?” She suddenly asked, plopping down on the ground next to her with a curious, but excited, look on her bespectacled face.

“I guess.” Petra replied.

 

The second time Petra had gotten flowers, it was from Hanji’s family after her mother had passed away. They were white lilies, adorned with ribbons and a heartfelt card attached to the pot. Lilies weren’t really that attractive now that she thought about it, but set them on the dining room table anyways. The white splash only made the dark atmosphere of her home all the more bleak. When her father came back, smelling of alcohol and sweat, he threw them out the window, grumbling about how her mother was allergic to them.

The third time was a bouquet of tulips, in celebration of her acceptance to an elite squad in the army. They were from an anonymous person, and she set them up on a bedside table until they were withered and bone dry. It was like a strange reminder that she had come this far and deserved something nice. Thankfully, tulips didn’t make her sniffle and sneeze, and were a nice touch to her otherwise bare room. It wasn’t until months later, with a visit from her leader, that they had actually been thrown out behind her back.

The fourth time was a single rose, plucked of every thorn and still smelling sweet. It was from a rather unlikely suitor too; Hanji, her childhood best friend. Her friend, at this moment, kept their face hopeful looking as they offered the flower to her. She accepted, twirling it about her two fingers. 

“It’s pretty,” Petra finally said.

“Yeah, a red rose is actually the symbol for romance in love in quite a few cultures. Quite fascinating.” Hanji remarked.

“But…” Petra looked up into Hanji’s eyes. “I thought violets were for women lovers?”

“Oh, um, they are, but,” Hanji’s words suddenly stumbled in her throat. “You don’t like violets, or at least I thought so.”

Petra just gave a soft smile. “It’s fine; I like it a lot.” She reassured her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“I’ll take it with me on my mission, okay?”

The fifth time was the last time. They were nice, she supposed, a mixture of lilies and orchids. They were white, and stuck out like a broken thumb along with the gray sky and dark muddy ground, paper already being soaked by the wet ground. At least her grave had a bouquet; many others were plain and empty, no mourners gathering around to give their respects. A few people had shown up at her grave. that was more of a headstone than anything else. Her body hadn’t been found, lost back in the heat of the moment. It was better like this, she supposed. Her rotting face wasn’t something she wanted people to remember her by anyway.


End file.
